


ketchup theory

by ishka



Category: Free!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst and Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 22:21:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13133412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ishka/pseuds/ishka
Summary: They’ve only ever been two dogs chasing the same car. When does it give?





	ketchup theory

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Morie_mordant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morie_mordant/gifts).



> done for free! exchange 2017
> 
> morie you wanted a little hurt, a little comfort, maybe some cops, a platonic or romantic sourin... a combination right up my alley. hope you enjoy it even if i'm incapable of writing short stories.

“You don’t have to talk about it.”

“You keep saying that.”

“Because you don’t.”

“But you want me to. Or else you wouldn’t keep saying it.”

Rin runs a restless hand through his hair and sighs, short and huffy. “If I wanted to know I would just ask.”

Today he lacks the usual energy to bat Sousuke’s hand away when he reaches across the center console of their cruiser to dunk a fistfull of fries into Rin’s ketchup. Rin grimaces the entire motion through, up to and including the barbaric way Sousuke bites through his fry bundle all at once instead of eating them one by one as any normal person would.

“No you wouldn’t,” Sousuke argues through a full mouth.

“The ketchup is free. You can take as much as you want from the restaurant. They don’t ration it.”

He shrugs, swallows. “I didn’t get enough and you’re not gonna finish yours. Don’t be so stingy.”

“And I would too ask,” Rin presses on, setting his nearly empty paper boat up onto the dashboard for Sousuke’s casual vulturing. “If I’m not shy enough to ask about your therapy appointments, I’m not gonna be too shy to ask what you talk about when you’re there if I want to know.”

“It's not therapy, it's counseling, and it’s policy,” Sousuke counters. “They make every walking lawsuit do it for a few months; it was never a secret you had to ask after.”

Sometimes Sousuke gets into one of his contrarian moods just for the sake of, what Rin assumes is, pissing him off. It always works, unless Rin is allowing himself to be particularly observant in the moment and sees it’s just Sousuke’s way of changing the subject away from something he doesn’t want to get into. Hence why Rin told him he didn’t need to talk about it in the first place.

“Months? I thought it was only an initial and a follow up.”

Sousuke shrugs again. “Six sessions minimum, every other week. Makes sense. Administration wants to make double sure I‘m not gonna off myself or hurt someone or something. From the _trauma_ of it all.” He rolls his eyes. “Liability issue, right? Looks good in court.”

Rin turns away from him to look out the window and out over the sea. It’s frozen and dead outside, with the sky perpetually grey and hazy from now until March, but it makes this unexpected period of uncertainty pass with a better grace than would a loud summer.

They picked up their standard lunch parked at the scenic landing overlooking the water without issue, for which Rin is grateful. It helps to have something else to look at when neither of them are able to look each other in the eye for longer than a passing glance, as has been the case since Sousuke unceremoniously showed up again one unassuming Thursday morning for his 6 AM shift, at his historically ever preter-punctual 6:07, after two weeks of mandatory time off.

He showed up without so much as a heads up interoffice memo and came armed with only a critical review on the newest _Law and Order_ he ready knows Rin didn't have time to watch yet, because he has never had time nor patience to watch anything day of, not with commercials.

Sei threw them both back onto the beat the next day. Like none of it ever happened. Sousuke latched onto it, all grins and bravado. A hero’s walk; that’s what he is now.

“When would you have to testify?”

This finally shakes Sousuke of a bit of his smug. He frowns a twitch, and stalls the conversation by grabbing for the single last bite Rin never eats of his burger. He washes it down with a full swig of cola.

“Dunno.”

“Ethics committee summons?”

“Not yet.”

Rin teeters on the edge of wanting to know more and not ever wanting to hear about it again. He’s ashamed of himself that he can’t jump right back into feeling normal like Sousuke is silently asking him to; Sousuke has always adjusted in stride to Rin’s ins and outs over the years. But this is different. Sousuke’s different. Someone got hurt. Sousuke did everything right, but someone got hurt, and Rin knows Sousuke too well to allow himself to believe that Sousuke is unaffected by it.

He hunches his coat up over his ears to ward out some of the cold seeping in and sighs long as he gives the center computer a solid thwack. The only call they’ve been out to all morning was to scold a kid who got caught breaking into a shop owner’s vehicle for their belongings. Rin wanted to take him in and at least get his information logged into the system to future-proof any other crimes he will inevitably get caught doing. Sousuke proceeded to blatantly undermine his decision and went with a gentle fucking slap on the wrist. Another clue that Sousuke isn’t on the level; he’s always the bigger dick cop.

“Where’s the action?”

“You want people to break the law?”

“No, I want something to do that isn’t sitting around and watching you shovel food into your big mouth like a caveman.”

Sousuke clicks his tongue and leans into his door, away from Rin who presses further into his own. Rin’s old enough to acknowledge he’s a pandora’s box of shitheadedness; once he starts there’s no reining it in. But he can’t hold onto his frustration forever and it’s pressing through the cracks of the front he’s forced on for the sake of emulating a normalcy that isn’t there.

“The hell I do to you, by the way?” Sousuke grumbles. “You’ve been a real prick since I got back.”

“Because you’re— would you admit you’ve been acting weird?”

“No, because I’m not.”

“Spare me. You’re shutting me out, too. Why?”

“Rin,” Sousuke warns, closing his eyes. The calm placidity of it is louder than if he had yelled. “Let it go.”

“But—”

_“Delta Fifteen do you copy?”_

Rin lets the crackling page hang in the air unanswered long enough to try and force Sousuke to look at him. He doesn’t.

“There’s your action,” Sousuke mutters.

_“Repeat: Delta Fifteen do you copy?”_

With a low growl, Rin rips the radio from its cradle. Dispatch has an uncanny knack for derailing Rin’s most important conversations. “Go ahead.”

_“Hotel at four-two-eight east seventh, multiple reports of a domestic dispute, bottom floor lobby, one male, one-seventy centimeters, possibly inebriated. One female, one-sixty centimeters, status unknown. Break.”_

Sousuke sighs and sits up, then buckles his seatbelt and moves like it weighs more than the car to pull across his chest.

“Go ahead.”

_“Suspects possibly armed. Ongoing hostile verbal exchange reported. Hotel security holding the lobby as a precaution. Over.”_

“Copy. Delta Fifteen responding.”

_“Ten-four.”_

While Rin turns the cruiser’s ignition over, Sousuke packs in the trash from their lunch and shoves it into the brown takeout bag it came in. He still doesn’t say anything, and takes in the sea, choosing to give the horizon his secrets instead of Rin. Rin would call it melancholy; a label egregiously unbefitting of his partner as much as all the incessant grinning and bravado has been.

“Sousuke.”

“Hm.”

“Want to sit this one out? Sei wouldn’t— I mean, I can drop you off at the station and swing back around—”

“Just drive, Rin. For fuck’s sake.”

“Jesus,” Rin hisses, throwing the stick into reverse and swinging the cruiser out of the spot, “all right, all right.”

He doesn’t push his luck any further, and the only sound in the car is the occasional radio cross-chatter as he drives them across town at what he would deem a hustle speed. Not quite blaring lights and sirens through intersections, not quite stopping at Starbucks on the way.

He watches the seaside disappear from the rearview mirror, and it’s only there in that neutral space that Sousuke finally agrees to meet his gaze, with a look so strong and stormy that Rin is rendered breathless.

“Do not pity me.”

Rin suppresses a shiver, and turns back to the road. “C’mon, Sou,” he laughs to break up the catch in his throat. “Remember when you thought it’d be a good idea to hop that rusty fence and take down that junkie? The first thing I did when you impaled your calf on that rod was poke it and call you a dumbass. Couldn’t pity you if I tried.”

Sousuke untenses and sits back in his seat, a grin pulling him out of his moodswing. “Nevermind. You’ve always been a prick, somehow I forget.”

Despite the tumultuous mood, Rin returns his mirth. “How could you?” He clears his throat. “I’m just, y’know. I’m your partner. It’d be shitty of me to… You get it, right?”

“I know.”

“So you’re fine?”

“I’m fine. A little shook up. That’s all.”

It might be more believable if only he’d stop fucking smiling when he lied.

* * *

 

Rin knows better.

Specifically he knows Sousuke hates being the center of attention, he hates parties that aren’t catered, and he hates any after-hours function that involves administrators of any kind. Sei insisting on a small and quiet get together to celebrate Sousuke’s heroics with their closest friends ticks all three of those hate-filled boxes, and Rin gave him emphatic approval to go through with it anyway when he asked to use Rin’s house for it. Because maybe then everyone else can see what he’s seeing.

“It really was something,” Makoto remarks in unwavering awe. While he’s distracted with his recount, Haru nudges a plate of brownies away from Makoto, inch by inch, and slowly replaces it with a nearby bowl of pretzels. Someone had to; as the direct recipient of Makoto’s exhausted prattling, Rin’s only been able to watch in silent horror as Makoto inhaled three treats in a row.

Makoto notices the change in texture when he blindly goes back for a fourth and brushes up against the lesser snack. He looks down and ignites with embarrassment. “Oh. Thanks Haru. I show up late and now I’m eating all the food, aren’t I?” Rin thinks the worst is over until Makoto mainlines a handful of pretzel pieces then polishes off his full beer without so much as a blink or a moment to breathe during the transition.

Rin takes an unconscious smaller sip of his own, Haru gets both hands around his bottle protectively. “Rough shift, pal?”

“Oh, it’s just… old country women and their wooden stoves,” Makoto answers, distantly and haunted. “Anyway. He was so totally in control, I’ve never seen him like that. Anyone like that. You missed it, Rin. But honestly it was a little scary, so maybe it’s better you did. We all thought Sousuke would… maybe he’d have to...” He clears his throat of finishing the sentence, and takes a look around to make sure no one’s wandered into Rin’s kitchen since he started speaking, then lowers his voice. “Nevermind that. How’s he doing?”

Rin shrugs one shoulder and beats back the wave of guilt that washes over him every time he’s reminded that Sousuke had to endure what he did alone. If Rin hadn’t been off, if he’d been there, maybe it would’ve been different, no matter how often his logical brain tells him it wouldn’t have mattered and it’s a point of irrelevance. “Says he’s fine. But he doesn’t tell me shit.”

“I invited him to our usual dinner last week to try and check on him but he turned it down,” Makoto muses. “He’s never stiffed me before.”

“Just give him space,” Haru chimes in following an irritated sigh. “Not everyone needs to talk about every bad day they have.”

Makoto hums his disagreement. “This was more than that, Haru.”

Haru changes his mind, and takes the pretzels away from Makoto too. Makoto does nothing to hide his indignance. “Doesn’t matter. He doesn’t owe either of you his feelings for your own peace of mind. Just let him be.”

“Has he said anything to you?” Rin tries. Haru’s desk at the precinct occasionally doubles as a therapy couch, since Haru can’t escape easily unless he’s willing to shirk his receptionist duties and risk being caught by Sei slacking off in archives. Mostly his desk functions this way for Rin, but Sousuke has been known to stop by for a hot take or two when he thinks no one is watching.

Haru shakes his head. “He hasn’t tried to prank me at all since he came back.”

Makoto chews his lip. “We— well, you, Rin, should really try and talk to him. I know he won’t talk to Haru or me.”

“Or you could leave him alone and stop bothering him.”

What Rin takes away from the conversation is that he’s in a rare position he does not often jockey from when it comes to contentious discussions with Haru and Makoto: the middle. Because no, Sousuke doesn’t owe Rin a single detail, that much is true. But Rin owes Sousuke the attention to see that he’s struggling, and the patience to convince him he doesn’t have to do it alone. He’s no less muddy headed on the matter than when he started talking to his friends for clarity.

“Thanks for nothing, you two.”

“Any time,” Haru replies as Makoto nods his somber surrender. Brownie four has since materialized in his hand. Rin makes a mental note to help get that human disaster back onto a meal prep plan before he dies of malnutrition.

The other side of his house has overtaken the quieter kitchen, Sei’s boisterous laugh leading the charge. Sousuke was noticeably pissed with Rin for allowing the get together, so Rin has kept his head down and away from him throughout the evening so as not to not cause him any further grievances. But now Sei is calling for him across the house, as well as for Haru and Makoto, and while it means this fruitless endeavor is coming to a close, it also means he has to endure whatever hokie speech Sei cooked up as they’ve all been drinking and joking around.

Sousuke eyes Rin over his bourbon glass before bottoming it out and slamming it down on a nearby surface to free up his arm to lasso Sei around the neck for whatever he said before Rin entered the room. A respectable quarter is missing from the nearby bottle of Sousuke’s favorite batch Rin bought on his way home especially to placate him. At least his peace offering was accepted. Everyone in the the room is too tossed and obnoxious for Rin’s flat mood, and he’s shored up to a wall before he recognizes he’s trying to escape through it.

“Hey, listen up!” Sei corrals like he’s a boss talking to his precinct and not a house full of friends. When he’s buzzed he’s even bossier, somehow. “Just real quick then you all need to get out. I know every one of you works tomorrow.”

Rin looks down into his beer bottle and picks at the label. Anything to stay off the radar. Sei holds Sousuke by his shirt to keep him firmly planted in the center of the room, Gou has since glued to his side to cut off any duck-and-dash attempts. It would be an endearing scene if Rin didn’t know better.

“Look, we all know what you did, Yamazaki.” Sei says it grimly as if it is everyone’s burden, like it was something that Sousuke chose to do from a list of possible and equitable options, and not something that happened in front of him that he had no control over, and it leaves Rin uncomfortable.

Gou picks up on Sousuke’s subtle jolt and pats his waist where she holds onto him. Rin also catches Makoto’s ghost of a frown alongside Haru’s blatant eyeroll, and takes some dismal point of solace in no longer being the only one with a bitter taste on his tongue over the entire thing.

“But! There isn’t a person who knows you who would say you could’ve handled it more perfectly than you did. You saved a lot of people, Yamazaki. And I know you hate the laurels, but you’re a damn good cop, and that’s why we’re celebrating you, all right?”

The few oblivious others present cheer and clap and whoop. Sousuke silently raises a recently re-filled glass in acknowledgement of Sei’s attempt to reach out. And that’s all it is; Sei isn’t stupid, he knows any day that ends with a bodybag, no matter what type of person is inside or what put them there, is a moral loss on some level, for someone. This sort of grandstanding is all he knows how to do to show his support for his team. He just isn’t, and will never be one, for the feelings honesty hour. It makes him a great boss and a difficult confidant.

“Thanks,” Sousuke says. “But enough about that bullshit. Where’s that fuckin’ food? Tachibana, you eat it all?”

“Of course he did!” Sei shouts.

“You should be quicker,” Makoto bites back. “I was even late!”

Sei laughs, and cheers his glass to Sousuke’s, finally earning his freedom from Sousuke’s arm. Makoto joins the chaos, Gou eggs them all on, Haru disappears, and Rin’s all alone in his house full of people and he can’t stand it. Can’t stand watching Sousuke act like this, can’t stand being the only one, including Sousuke, who thinks there’s a problem.

And just as soon as they all showed up, they’re leaving, and Rin is the only one left in the room, staring at the closed door while Sousuke cleans up his own party in the kitchen. Makoto tried to help, but he’s more of a hindrance than an assist when he’s tired, and Haru is standing strong by his “leave Sousuke alone” convictions. Gou was harder to shake until Rin promised her he had it under control out of Sousuke’s earshot.

He gathers up a few loose bottles for an excuse to go to the kitchen. Sousuke scrubs the empty snack plates, attention sunk into the abyss of the sink. His movements are sloppy, tired, and drunk, but Rin isn’t about to tell him not to do it. He’s not surprised to see that jovial mood is nowhere to be found now that he has no one to hold it up for.

“I know you’re pissed. But—”

“It’s okay, Rin.” One dish lands particularly hard onto the rack, clanging close to breaking. “You always do whatever you want, why would I expect anything else?”

“I know you said you were fine. But it’s good to be around friends after bad shit happens even if you’re okay.”

“Yeah you sure like to insist you know what’s best for me, too.”

Rin leans on the edge of the counter and crosses his arms. “Could you pull your bitter head out of your mean drunk ass for two seconds and talk to me? I know you just want to fuckin’ fight with me because that’s all we ever do but let’s attempt something serious for once.”

“Whatever.”

“I’m trying, Sousuke. Could you also give half a shit?”

He hums a dismissive non-committance in response and finishes the dishes instead. Rin doesn’t budge this time. When Sousuke turns around for the dish towel, he’s confused to see Rin hasn’t stormed off yet like he normally would.

“What’s going on with you?”

Sousuke’s shoulders drop impossibly low. The surrender is heavy on Rin’s heart. He didn’t want to wear Sousuke down into talking, he wanted to work with him. As his partner, his best friend. Sure they fight, but it’s always out of passion and in an attempt to demonstrate they care about the cause they’re pushing on each other. It’s never been about giving in.

“Why won’t you let me move on? I just want it back to how it was and you keep dragging me into this shit looking for something I’m telling you isn’t there.”

“You’re not talking to me, you’re not hanging out with your friends, you’re faking every single thing you do—”

“You’re making shit up because you want there to be something wrong with me. You can’t just believe me, can you?”

“No, because this isn’t you! I know it, even Gou saw it if you don’t trust me!”

Sousuke drops his head to pinch the bridge to his nose between his fingertips and sighs. “What do you want from me? Honestly. You want to get off to a tragedy? Want me to relive this for you over and over again until you can feel good about yourself, knowing that you pushed and pushed until I broke down and admitted how guilty I felt? How I can’t sleep? Don’t eat? Can’t work? Well look the fuck around, I do all that shit, and I don’t feel guilty, so what do you want me to say? How else can I say it, Rin?”

“Someone _died—_ ”

Sousuke takes a wide, sober stride in Rin’s direction with an unburied fury on his snarl. “And if you think for a second I’m going to let you finish that sentence when I have been begging you to fucking drop it then you don’t know me—”

“Oh. Excuse me.”

Rin is relieved by Makoto’s unintentional intervention. Sousuke, however, drains white as a sheet.

Makoto doesn’t leave them to languish. “I forgot my phone. Otherwise I would’ve called. You must not have heard me knock; sorry it’s the on-call phone so I can’t just… nevermind. It’s behind you, Rin.”

He grabs blindly behind himself until he feels it, and baits it for Makoto on an outstretched arm. He’d walk it over any other time, but the entire altercation and subsequent sudden adrenaline drain has left him lightheaded.

Makoto takes it with a broad smile he turns on them both. Sousuke could learn a thing or two from Makoto in the fine art of fake smiles. “I apologize for barging in,” he says, even if Rin doesn’t believe he didn’t do it on purpose.

“No problem,” Sousuke answers.

“Not his damn house,” Rin jests nervously, “but yeah. All good, Makoto.”

“Right.” Makoto looks at his feet, grappling with the situation. Rin nearly interrupts him to show him out and spare them all any further mortification, but decides he’d rather hear what Makoto has to say. Can’t get much worse than how it was going before he showed up anyway. And if Sousuke isn’t shoving him out the door, well. That’s further than Rin’s made it. Makoto has that pull over others, may as well use it. “It takes a while.”

Rin frowns. “What does?”

Makoto looks to Sousuke while he speaks to Rin. “To sink in. When something like this happens. It isn’t there right away. Then one day it just…” He drops his arms and hands out, an invisible pile of bricks tumbling to the floor. “At least in my experience. Different circumstances obviously.”

“Okay, thanks I guess,” Sousuke deadpans. “But I’m fine.”

“I know,” Makoto says. “And I believe you, because I’ve been there. It’s okay though, if one day you’re not.” He handles the ensuing tense silence with his unique brand of grace, balancing a hasty retreat with a pleasant goodbye. “I’ll be going. Call me when you want to pick up dinner again, Sousuke. There’s a new katsudon place on the south side and last I heard, Rin was still burned out on it so I’m really your only hope.”

“Sure, Makoto,” Sousuke relents, softer than he’d been with him before. Makoto nods, and leaves as quietly as he came in.

The thick animosity in the air from before has given way to the fact that it’s late and no one here means anyone else harm no matter the central disagreement. Sousuke leans back on the counter next to Rin, the closest he’s voluntarily put himself in weeks. Rin chokes on telling him how much he misses him, how hard it’s been only earning Sousuke’s anger and none of his kindness or trust, when his kindness and trust is what Rin cherishes most in this world.

It’s the first time he considers that what happened to Sousuke has affected him too, insofar that the absence of the intimacy he‘s taken for granted all this time, because it’s always been there between them unconditionally even before Rin knew what it was, has left him brittle and insecure. Barely registering the buzz-warmth off Sousuke’s skin because he’s finally close enough to do so is enough to make his chest ache with longing.

Rin hasn’t been himself either. No wonder Sousuke has held him out as far away as he holds everyone else.

“What you were saying before—”

“Nah, Rin, you don’t have to.”

“No, really. You’re right. I was wrong.”

“Ain’t that one I wish I had recorded,” Sousuke sighs whimsically.

Rin admonishes him with a gentle knee to the side of his thigh. “You know I’m here if you need it. The rest will work itself out how it’s gonna whether I pester you or not. I get it.”

“Hm.” He bows his head. “I admit I’ve been… short-tempered, maybe. I’m not saying I’m okay because I think what happened didn’t matter and won’t affect me. I think I say it because I’m still alive, I’m grateful for it, and I got things I gotta do. I have to show up. I got people to protect.” He clears his throat. “That sort of life-affirming shit. You— all that takes priority for me.”

Every now and then they make their way back to this crossroad, where they get a chance to expose their most guarded truth of all. Where, if they acknowledged it, everything would be different and yet little would change.

But Rin closes his eyes and turns away from it, just as Sousuke crumbles into a mumbled good night see you tomorrow, and the path never traveled stays as such another day. They’ll both drift to sleep thinking it had to be for the best, and that’s a constant Rin can always count on.

* * *

 

Anticipation is a luxury.

Sei told them that all the time when they were new and made mistakes every five minutes. It stuck with Rin and cemented itself as a mantra he often repeats in times of duress, even though he makes fewer mistakes these days and doesn’t fully understand what the Chief meant by it.

Sei always keeps his planned punishments a secret up until he calls in the tedious order; Sousuke figured when Sei commanded things like cleaning out and inventorying the evidence room the second they walked into the office after a ten hour day on the beat as punishment for a late report from three weeks before, that’s what he meant by it. Knowing that sort of thing was coming meant they could’ve prepared for it. It would’ve been a luxury to know, but never a necessity.

Hell, maybe it is what he meant.

Rin’s least favorite call is a neighborly spat. More asinine than the standard parking space argument is a call to mediate an argument regarding a garbage bag torn open overnight by some passing animal where its contents have been scattered into the neighbor’s yard, of all bullshit. He can anticipate exactly how this will go, having had the luxury of attending this sort of call a hundred times before. He already plans on admonishing these idiots for wasting his time.

“We’re gonna make both of them pick up the trash, right?” Sousuke groans.

“I’d tear another bag open for them to clean up for good measure if I could.”

The car in front of them at the pick up window drives off. Rin pulls forward and greets the green-aproned attendant, who hands him Sousuke’s venti quad ( _why_ ) and Rin’s mellower plain latte.

“We’ve been put on a lot of shit calls lately,” Sousuke mutters.

Rin hums an idle acknowledgement. The meaning behind Sousuke’s statement doesn’t sink in until Rin has sipped his drink. burned his tongue, cursed it, and rolled the cruiser to the drive-thru exit. Carefully, as the icy early morning roads have taken a turn for the sinister and invisible. He’s waiting for a chance to turn out and continue on their way to the neighbor dispute, after Sousuke hasn’t said anything else about it, when it takes on its different meaning.

“We have, haven’t we? You think it’s on purpose.”

Sousuke sneers his disgust with it. “Of course it is.”

“You don’t know that. It’s dispatch, based on availability. Sei has no authority over that.”

“Then it’s one hell of a coincidence, isn’t it?

It is, if he’s being honest. Sei has pulled off more unbelievable things in the past and Sousuke knows it too. “Precaution, maybe,” Rin offers.

“On what, exactly?”

“You. Until this is all clear behind us and the paperwork to clear you is filed.”

Sousuke bitches under his breath and Rin pulls onto the street.

“I don’t know why he just doesn’t suspend me until it’s over if he’s that fuckin’ worried about saving his own ass. He insists I did nothing wrong then treats me like a livewire.”

Rin bites his lip to shut himself up. It’s a drag-out fight waiting to happen if he tells Sousuke that Sei wouldn’t do that to save his own ass, he’d do it out of loyalty to and compassion for a member of his team who needs time to recover and won’t take no for answer. He’s given similar subtle time-outs to Rin in the past when he was more of a problem child than anything. It took a long time, long after Rin figured his shit out, to realize what Sei was doing.

The reason he doesn’t tell Sousuke now is the same reason he never thanked Sei for his meddling in Rin’s affairs despite his gratefulness in hindsight. Just because he knows why Sei did it, doesn’t make him any less ashamed of it. Sousuke, a more defiant man than Rin, would never accept it.

He sighs. “It’s not for—”

Rin sees the car to his right blow past the stop sign, he hears Sousuke yell, he registers an initial blunt impact, but his mind skips like a scratched record over connecting those three things together until he looks up again after instinctively ducking his head and finds he’s on the other side of the road, with fractured glass all around him, and most of the driver-side door concaved in and making a harsh pinch of his seat. His breath rasps in his ears and his adrenaline-flooded limbs don’t belong to him. He whips his gaze around the inside of the otherwise empty cruiser but doesn’t know what he’s looking for until he’s shouting for him.

“Sousuke… Sousuke!”

The passenger-side door is wide open. Rin unbuckles his seatbelt with two damnably shaky hands, cursing their noncooperation, and struggles with his door for only a moment until he gives up on getting it to budge and crawls over to Sousuke’s side and out onto the street. Nothing hurts, not yet anyway, and he doesn’t see any smoke.

The car that hit them is lodged into the side of the cruiser, explaining why he couldn’t get his door open. A few other cars on the road have stopped, a few pedestrians stare on curiously, but Rin hones in on the scene in front of him. Panic detonates in his gut and sends him into a sprint around the front of the cruiser before he understands why on a conscious level.

Sousuke has the driver backed up against the wreckage of his car, and the only thing Rin can think about is that Sousuke is making a colossal fucking mistake in the one time in his life he cannot afford to misstep even an inch and Rin’s faith in his ability to back him down is rocky at best lately.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Sousuke screams at the top of his lungs. “Did you see the fucking stop sign? Did it occur to you to hit your shitty fucking brakes?!”

“Hey, man, um, officer,” some foreign kid argues back in English, hands in front of himself defensively. “I don’t know Ja— It was a mistake— The ice—”

“Shut the fuck up! Do you have any idea how hard you just hit us?! Are you this much of a stupid piece of shit? You could’ve fucking killed someone! You fucking hit him!”

Rin lurches to get his arms locked around Sousuke’s shoulders and yanks him back just as Sousuke tries to take it too far and put his hands on the guy. “Sousuke! Stop it!”

He bucks against Rin instinctively, elbowing back and kicking his feet out in his scorched earth rage, and Rin holds on until he puts a sizeable number of paces between them and the driver before slackening his vice hold. Sousuke barrels forward again, Rin drags him back again, a shitstorm of yells and shouts drowns out their surroundings. In this state Sousuke is stronger than anyone Rin knows, so it beats him how he’s able to overpower and put himself between Sousuke and the driver, but he pulls it off and stands tall to force Sousuke to look at him.

“Calm down,” Rin rasps. He can’t catch his breath and labors through his words. “You gotta calm down, Sou.”

“You—! He—!”

“Hey, I know, okay? But you got a uniform on.” He flicks the patch on Sousuke’s chest, anything to bring him back down to earth. Sousuke flinches and flits his gaze down and back to Rin. “You can’t do this.”

It helps, but he’s still too frenzied for Rin’s taste. “He could’ve killed you, Rin.”

“He didn’t. And if you hurt him, you’re fucked. Look around.”

“Hurt him,” Sousuke parrots non-comprehending, brow furrowed. “No, no. Never. I wasn’t going— You’re bleeding.”

Rin can’t feel from where but Sousuke won’t stop staring somewhere above his eyebrow now. “I’m fine I promise. Stay here and I will deal with him, all right? Call Sei or Haru, get us a ride and a clean up. I’ll get the rubberneckers out of here. It’s all fine. It’s okay.”

“Rin.”

Sousuke thoughtlessly reaches for him, and Rin has to be the one to catch him by his wrists and push him away, when it’s the last thing he ever wanted to do. He withers at the sight of Sousuke’s reproached confusion, compounded by the weight of too many sets of eyes on them.

“I’m okay, you’re okay. You’re okay, right? Did you get hurt?”

“I’m,” Sousuke says, “No, I’m— You’re bleeding.”

Rin looks over at the foreigner and dusts off his ancient English. “Hey. Stay there. Don’t move until I get back.” The kid nods. He turns to the lingering pedestrians and sets a growl to his voice. “Get moving! This ain’t a show!”

The small crowd breaks up somewhat. Enough for Rin to walk Sousuke back around to the side of their cruiser stopped just before the bush line. He gives him a gentle shove to sit back in his seat sideways, legs swung out onto the ground. It’s the only point of privacy in the middle of an open road, thanks to the distorted obstruction provided by the broken glass.

Sousuke pins an unfocused gaze between his feet. “I almost laid that guy out. What the fuck was I doing? I lost it, Rin.”

“Fuck it,” Rin dismisses. He crouches down. “That’s why you got me. It’s okay.”

“Stop saying that.” Sousuke looks up. Rin doesn’t push his hand away this time. It sticks a heartbreaking landing on Rin’s shoulder. Rin’s throat pulls tight; he ruined it, he ruined it. “It’s not.”

All he wanted to be able to do was be there for Sousuke when the other shoe fell. Now that Sousuke needs it, he has no idea what to do. Sousuke always knows what to do for him. Rin is hopelessly, transparently inadequate in this moment. “I’m sorry.”

Sousuke nods, his grip on Rin’s shoulder falters, then releases. Rin reaches up to put it back against his better judgement. It’s better than losing it.

Even if he anticipated it, Rin couldn’t have prepared for it. Sousuke kisses him and it’s not like a single time Rin’s thought about it. It’s not right at all. Rin fervently hates every millisecond of it, and yet doesn’t say no, this isn’t how it was supposed to be. This isn’t how we are.

But Sousuke takes the lead and breaks it, and takes his hand back from beneath Rin’s, and smears Rin’s blood off his cheek where it’s trickled with a miserable pull of the heel of his palm. And Sousuke’s the one to take care of Rin because he always knows what to do for him and Rin can never return the gesture no matter how badly he wants to and claims he can.

“That’s not how you wanted it.” He shuts his eyes and licks the memory away from his lips. “That was wrong. I’m sorry.”

The spot above Rin's eyebrow throbs and stings. The icy chill fills his chest and burns. He stands on hollow legs. “I’ll call Haru. You just stay here.”

He needs a new mantra. 

* * *

 

“I’m confused and pissed off.”

“How does that differ from any other moment of your day, Rin?”

If he were pettier man, as Haru is, he’d bat Haru’s name plate off his desk in response. An inquiring glance shows Haru’s already removed his name plate from his desk for the day, because he doesn’t like “the public” knowing his name, and the Chief won’t notice. He won’t notice because he’s been in his office with Sousuke for two hours now.

Rin had to tell Sei what happened. It makes him sick, but he had to. He almost wishes Sousuke hated him for it. What sort of person would report their best friend like that? But he won’t. Because sometimes, they have to be colleagues instead. Sometimes rules guide them when their hearts can’t be trusted to do the right thing. Rin knows Sousuke would do him the same favor were the roles reversed. If nothing else in their long history, Sousuke’s taught Rin that support isn’t about letting things slide. If they’re going to be partners, holding each other accountable goes hand in hand with compassion.

In lieu of pettiness, Rin sighs and settles farther back onto Haru’s desk until only his boot tips reach the ground. “Why do I talk to you?”

“Get your entire ass off my desk.”

“I’m seriously asking.”

Haru ever-so-aggressively stabs at his thigh with a metal letter opener until Rin scoots up and compromises with a half-sit, half-lean, forefoot firmly flat. Always restless, he bounces one leg. Haru gave up and stopped stabbing him for that tick a while ago.

“Fine. Would you just let them talk? It’s probably not about you.”

“Who said I cared if it was about me?”

“It’ll be a cold day in hell when you don’t.”

Rin shifts his full weight back onto the desk. Ass for an ass. “Have you ever taken action in your entire existence or is your strategy for handling all of life’s obstacles to just not do anything about them?”

Haru shrugs. “I like to let things play out. How’s your face?”

He taps his fingertips to the rectangular bandage pulling his skin tight above his right eyebrow. Six stitches, nothing serious. “Eh. Honestly the boiling hot coffee all over my arms was worse. Fuckin’ Sou and his black tar drinks.” A full day later and his left arm is still splotched red.

The phone rings. Haru frowns and mutes the ringer. “He didn’t… do anything, did he?”

“No,” Rin answers. “Of course not. You know he wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

“I know. But with the way you feel like he’s been off...”

“I had to back him down,” Rin confesses, having sensed where Haru’s suspicions with his recount were falling. “I hated it, Haru. He’s never snapped like that before.”

“I’m willing to bet he won’t do that again,” Haru says. “Not if it scared you.”

Rin rolls his eyes. “It didn’t scare me, come on.”

“Not like that. In the same way Makoto has scared us.”

Like their calls, most of Makoto’s calls are benign and victimless. A small gas leak. A kitchen fire when nobody’s home. However a seldom few calls are not benign. A smaller percentage of those very few calls have gone on to change Makoto in little ways. Each change came with it the fear that he might have lost something they loved about him, replaced with something dark they couldn’t reach. But Makoto always proves stronger than they tend to remember and those changes never redefine him.

“It wouldn’t matter,” Rin declares. “I’m his partner. We can work through anything.”

“Hm. Make sure he knows that.”

He’s surprised Haru would say anything like that when to anyone who’s seen them, it’s so glaringly obvious to the point of being obnoxious. “Why wouldn’t he?”

Haru leans back in his desk chair and rocks back and forth, a sign of mild discomfort, especially by the way he stares at the edge of his desk and not back at Rin. “Gun to my head—”

“Maybe we avoid that phrase for just a few weeks more.”

“Push came to shove,” Haru corrects, “if I had to say one nice thing about Yamazaki, and, as a disclaimer, it would be the most difficult choice—”

“I know you like him. Shut up and get to the point.”

Haru’s grunt is flat and pained. “He’s resilient.”

“That it?” Rin teases. “That all you got?”

The second grunt is more whiny than anything, like Rin is torturing words out of him. “Of course he’ll move on from this. He knows how to take care of himself. But he doesn’t want to lose you in the process. So make sure he knows he won’t. What I mean when I said to give him space is stop trying to fix what he’s already working on and just be there. You don’t have to do anything. Accept and trust that he can do it even if he fucks up sometimes, like he did yesterday. Don’t treat him differently for it. He’s still Sousuke. Just like we know after a bad fire, Makoto is still Makoto. Or if what happened to Sousuke happened to you, or if something happened to me, or… you get it.”

Rin allows himself an extended moment to gape in wonderment. “Wow, you have literally never said anything that nice about me. What the fuck, Nanase.”

“I have too,” Haru protests. “Just not to your face because you get weird about it.”

“Well fuck me for embracing my sensitive side,” Rin grumbles. “And I already know all that about Sousuke.”

Haru's grunt pitches to an all-out whimper. “All your sides are sensitive. Now let’s circle back. Pay attention this time: Does he know that?”

“I told him!”

“ _Show_ him, Rin. Stop telling him things.” He leans forward and unmutes the phone, muttering his discomfort under his breath. “You guys talk too much.”

Shadows move behind the drawn blinds obscuring Sei’s office. Rin’s heart slams in his chest at the same time the door opens. Only Sousuke emerges, drawing quick, nervous glances from the entire office in a way that infuriates Rin and strikes a rare nerve of protectiveness in him. Sousuke ignores them, he walks tall, and he holds his head high above the cloud of suspicion, but Rin can see what no one else can. He can see Sousuke taking shallow breaths through his nose, his knees locking stiff on each step, and the flush creeping up his neck at the base of his collar. This is another emotion that does not belong on Sousuke: shame.

He walks towards Rin and Haru, and he keeps on going through the exit.

* * *

 

Rin mono-tonally raps “Wouldn’t It Be Nice?” one and a half times into Sousuke’s door before the guy answers it. He caught it in his head off the TV a few hours prior; a warped, copyright-dodging version of Beach Boys’ jingle attached to a commercial for antacids. His knuckles are bright red by the time Sousuke’s glaring at him through the most impersonal of cracks, but Rin is nothing if not persistent and the song is catchy once it gets going.

“Fuck. Stop it.”

His smile gets the better of him despite Sousuke’s disgruntled glower. “There you are. Started to think I just imagined you my whole life.”

“I told you I needed to be alone.”

“Two days ago.” Rin taps the top of his wrist for his invisible watch. “That is a lifetime for my attention span. It’s Thursday, pal.”

“I don’t feel like it. Next week.”

Rin quickly shoves the toe of his sneaker into the space Sousuke tries to close.

“Rin,” Sousuke sighs. “I’m not in the mood.”

“I already bought it.” The squeeze on his foot relents, so Rin trusts he can remove it and Sousuke will hear him out. “Just lunch on the pier. Then I’ll take you back here and leave you alone again until next Thursday. C’mon, Sou. It’s tradition. We even did it the same week my appendix staged an effective coup.”

Sousuke’s glare breaks down in record time. He rolls his eyes and steps back from guarding his door like a twice-bitten hellhound. Rin slides it open and smiles wider to see Sousuke’s already dressed, coat and shoes and all. “You knew I’d come.”

“No, I didn’t,” Sousuke mutters.

Then he hoped Rin would.

“Well, come on, I’m starving. You’ve been ready to go this whole time.”

He steps out onto the landing of his floor and locks his door. “You were late. Figured you forgot.”

They walk in sync towards the flight of stairs to get to Rin’s usual parking space, conversation suspended until there aren’t icy steps to maneuver down or an equally icy parking lot to cross. Sousuke silently offers to drive by turning his palm out for the keys; Rin gently bats him away.

“Haven’t seen your shitty little Honda in a while,” Sousuke says, nodding to the Shit Box, as he calls it sometimes.

“We ain’t been off on a Thursday in a while.”

The car smells like a fast food joint already. Right away, Sousuke picks at the fries. The Extraneous Ones, or the Fair Game Fries. Rin doesn’t yell at him this time even if it means he ends up with half a meal by the time they arrive.

These two days without him have sucked. Just the physical vacancy at his side wherever he goes has thrown his balance, not to mention the perpetually depressing feeling of talking to an empty room at all times, a phone without new notifications, an extra layer of clothing to stay warm without another body to offset the winter. It’s one thing when they’re apart because life has lead them that way. It’s another when they’re apart because life has forced them that way.

“How’s your head?”

There’s guilt belying the question when there shouldn’t be. Sousuke idles his restless hands by popping his knuckle joints, something that would make Rin’s skin crawl any other day. Rin wishes he would’ve reached for him instead, touched his face to get a better look at it, made some soft joke about a badass scar, like he clearly wanted to just then. The tell is in the wasted energy of an aborted movement raising goosebumps on Rin’s skin. It’s too close and too confronting of what they’re both gracious enough to pretend didn’t happen, to make room one day for an opportunity they won’t disavow.

Rin wonders when the time will be right. If he thinks too long about that, his heart hurts for days. Today he does it to himself on purpose. It’s what he deserves for the cowardice of wishing and wondering and never doing anything about it. They’ve only ever been two dogs chasing the same car, and too alike for their own good to ask each other what the next step would be after catching it. When does it give?

He drives for the exit of the apartment complex. “It’s fine. Stitches are just itchy as fuck.”

“I didn’t even fucking check if you were okay. I’m sorry about that. I just saw red, Rin. The thought of some no one taking you out, after everything we’ve been through, I—”

“Don’t.” Because he can’t hear the rest of what Sousuke’s going to say without feeling worse. “I can’t handle that either.”

He can barely handle two days, much less thoughts of forever. Sousuke quietly drops it.

“You honestly thought I’d forget,” Rin remarks distantly long after it’s relevant anymore while he stops at the first light. Allowing it to go unchallenged isn’t right, because it isn’t.

Sousuke’s weak shrug catches the corner of his eye. “You get distracted.”

“As if you aren’t all I think about, Sousuke.”

Sousuke abruptly stops picking at the food and rolls the top of the bag down. The paper crinkle is deafening in the still silence following Rin’s confession and the light shows no sign of turning green and releasing them from this awkward, pressurized bubble of Rin’s making despite no cars crossing in the opposite direction. His stomach churns harder the longer it drags on. It was too much. He pushed too far.

“I, uh— sorry,” he stumbles. “Just you know, give me some credit, would you?”

“Turn here.”

He’s obeying before he decides if he agrees with the change of plans. “Yeah. Okay.”

Sousuke directs Rin in monosyllabic instruction: left, right, straight. Down a main artery, across a bridge stretched over a snow bank, and into the eastern suburbs far and away from the sea. The heater gives him a headache and causes his eyes to dry out and sting, so he turns it down. Sousuke cracks his window, likely about to overheat the entire time and waiting for Rin to catch up.

“Here. Stop.”

It’s a home, two from the end of the road. Small, run down, empty. If there are neighbors, they’ve made themselves scarce. Rin runs his eyes up and down, back and forth, looking for any clue and recognizing nothing. He’s sure he’s never been in this part of this neighborhood before. Yet Sousuke navigated purposefully, meticulously even. He’s been here without Rin. But unless he’s been driving around in the middle of the night, Rin goes everywhere with Sousuke. So where is this?

The returning sound of the food bag pulls him from his thoughts. Sousuke hands him his burger, sets his own on his lap, and drops the bag with the fries and condiments between the seats for Rin to preside over. He dumps both fry cartons into the bag and halves the ketchup packets evenly.

And then they eat in silence, staring out at an empty home. If Sousuke was going to tell him what it was, he would’ve already, so Rin doesn’t ask. Instead Rin reaches for his ketchup, and squeezes each packet into the inside top of his burger carton. The last packet goes rogue when he squeezes it too hard through a tear not made big enough, and sends a splatter onto the steering wheel.

“Goddammit,” he grumbles. There’s a stack of multi-source napkins in the center console; he thumbs one out and moves to clean up the paste.

Maybe it’s the visual shock of glistening red filling in the blanks when it cuts into his view of the house, or a slow sinking realization that’s been there the entire time hitting the sea floor of his consciousness, but he knows where they are now. His heart crawls up his throat without warning and his outstretched arm falls limp to his side.

“It was here.”

“Mm.”

Against Rin’s wishes, his newly-adjusted gaze sweeps the property for blood stains, broken glass, remnants of crime scene tape. Spotless.

“Like it never happened,” Sousuke answers.

“Shit, Sousuke.”

“Nanase tell you what they did to my report?”

“No.”

“Changed it. I declared one victim. Someone higher than me revised it to say none.” He takes a drink of cola and drags a bite of burger through the last of his ketchup. “Turns out it don’t count when the bad guy dies.”

Rin dry scrubs at the steering wheel. Now he can’t get it clean fast enough. He gives up the fight when he can’t see it anymore, even if that acidic smell will linger. “Does that make it easier?”

“Not sure, to be honest.” He’s yet to look away from the house. When he finally does, he turns something opaque on Rin. “I’m gonna stay on leave until I have an answer to it. I’m sorry I can’t pull my weight right now.”

“Don’t be,” Rin reminds him. Sousuke is not much for apologies. It speaks to how hard this is for him to deal with. Not what happened, but how it’s affected their partnership. “Ethics hearing?”

“Monday.” He dives for a fry, comes back with a bundle.

“It’s just a formality. Will you be okay?”

“I’ll survive.”

“You know that’s not what I’m asking.”

Sousuke looks away from Rin and sinks into his coat. Discomfort sets hard on his jaw while he works through any number of half-truths, half-deflections. None of what he comes up with seems to agree with him. But sitting here in front of this house proves the question shallow. Rin already has his answer. Sharing this with Rin says more than Sousuke is able to put into words. That’s why he did it.

“It’s all right,” Rin concedes. “I—”

“You’ll be there,” Sousuke says quickly. “So how bad can it be?”

It’s as much a revelation to him as it is to Rin; Sousuke blinks in surprise of his own unplanned words and Rin swallows down a catch in his chest.

“Yeah,” he agrees, no sound to carry his voice.

While Rin looks for his lungs, a grin pulls between Sousuke’s lips; he reaches across the center for the carton on Rin’s lap, and takes a dollop of ketchup for his fries.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading.
> 
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